


To Sing Your Name

by healthisbike



Series: Taking the Lord's Name in Vain [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional tags coming for later chapters, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Jesus is a feminist, M/M, Mary Magdalene!Crowley, No beta we fall like Crowley, Religious Themes, Slow Burn, also a tiny bit of background A/C, biblical history, but not a 6000 year slow burn, like the tiniest bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/healthisbike/pseuds/healthisbike
Summary: Turns out that tempting the Son of God into eternal damnation is more work than you might expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, you just gotta write the Crowley x Jesus you wish to see in the world.

_“Anthony?” _

_“You don’t like it?” _

_“No, no, I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.” _

_“What does the ‘J’ stand for?” _

_He froze. _

_*****************************_

_*****************************_

The orders came while the infant Savior was still covered in amniotic fluid. Beelzebub came up from Hell to tell Crawly in person. “Since you did such an excellent job with Eve back in the garden, our Master haszzz decreed that you will make the Son of God fall. Do not fail, demon Crawly, or our Master will be most displeaszzzed.”

He’d been told that he’d have thirty-three years to get it done. Hell didn’t much care when or how, just that it end with a piece of God’s own soul thrown into a fiery pit for the rest of eternity.

He had no idea how he was going to pull this one off.

\-----

Yeshua was thirty years old and had just been dunked in the river by John the Baptist. Crawly had been procrastinating, because the truth was that he felt rather blasé about the whole thing. He was the original tempter, could anything really top his first performance in the Garden? But he knew he was very close to running out of time, so he figured he probably ought to get it over and done with. He couldn’t imagine it would take all that long, given his stellar track record so far.

When Crawly heard that Yeshua of Nazareth had gone into the desert to fast for forty days, he took the opportunity and ran with it. He found the Son of God in a cave on Quarantania. When he arrived, Yeshua was sprawled out on the floor of the cave, staring up at the ceiling and looking bored. “Hello, demon.”

It was said with such an even tone that Crawly couldn’t help feeling just a bit affronted.

“Really? ‘Hello, demon.’ That’s how we’re doing this?” Thirty seconds had passed, and Crawly already got the sense that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

“I don’t much see the point in dancing around it, do you? You’re the demon Crawly. I’m God’s only begotten son. She’s already told me you’re here to tempt me. It won’t work. So what shall we do to pass the time for the next six weeks?”

Crawly sighed.

\-----

He really hadn’t anticipated Yeshua being so blessedly stubborn.

“Come on, you can’t just sit here and starve for forty days.” Crawly offered him up a rock. “You’re the Son of God. You could turn this into bread right now, problem solved. Look, you make the bread and I’ll make the wine, yeah?”

Yeshua yawned at him.

Crawly knew that Yeshua couldn’t actually do miracles yet, and that anyway, something as simple as hunger probably wouldn’t be enough to get the Savior of the entire bloody world to sin hard enough to fall. But he had figured he ought to at least rule it out before he moved on to something that would take more of an effort. From there, he offered to take Yeshua flying. He promised the whole shebang – wings out, soaring above the clouds, looking down on the world from a great height, and then a dive that would make his heart race before a quick miracle to save them both.

Yeshua chuckled. “I shall fly on my own power once I am in my Mother’s kingdom. I have no need of cursed dives, nor do I have any wish to reenact your own.” The cheek.

He moved on to temptations of a more intellectual sort. He thought maybe he could get Yeshua to question his way into a fall, just as Crawly himself had done all those thousands of years ago. They were laying on the ground outside the cave and looking up at the stars one evening. Crawly was trying to get him to admit that God’s cruelty didn’t square with her posturing as the almighty Mother, full of unconditional love.

“Why would a benevolent God allow innocent children to drown in a flood that wiped out the entire region?” Crawly posed the question as if he hadn’t been asking the same one himself for the last three thousand years or so.

“Who am I to question that choice?” Yeshua replied.

“Shouldn’t you, of all people, be the one who can question it? If you’re truly part of Her, it’s really just self-reflection.” Crawly had thought the whole concept of the holy trinity to be stupid from the first moment Beelzebub mentioned it and had told Yeshua as much.

“I am my Mother, and She is me, and Her choices are my choices. We were together before you were ever created, demon. I would not question my own nature, just as you would not question the fact that you are irreversibly damned.”

In fact, Crawly had questioned that quite a few times since he’d been stationed on earth, but that wasn’t any of Yeshua’s business. Something about Yeshua’s words caught at him, though, and he stored that thought away for later inspection.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that, Yesh?”

\-----

It went on like that for another three weeks – Crawly tempting and Yeshua rebuffing him. He tried everything he had in his arsenal. He’d even gone for lust, somewhere around the thirtieth day. They were sitting beside a small fire at the mouth of the cave and Crawly had been staring at Yeshua, trying to come up with something he hadn’t attempted yet. He was starting to get desperate, and more than a little worried that this was going to take a lot longer than he thought. He found himself leaning in for a kiss, but all he got was a turned cheek and a raised eyebrow.

“Really, Crawly, lust? You have to have figured out by now that it won’t work.” Yeshua was smirking at him and Crawly was torn. He couldn’t decide what would be more satisfying, leaning back in to test that statement or smacking the look off of Yeshua’s face. He did neither, opting instead to wander back into the cave to continue searching for something that would bring down the Son of God.

By the thirty-ninth day, it had become abundantly clear that Crawly was not going to meet his goal while Yeshua was on Quarantania. He spent the last day of the fast fine-tuning his newly created plan for a long con, since a short-term temptation wasn’t going to work. By evening, he was ready to plant the seeds of doubt that would hopefully blossom into an eternity in Hell. He almost felt bad about it, truth be told. You’d never hear him say it out loud, but there was something about Yeshua’s resilience that Crawly found impressive.

As the fire died down in the cave and he heard Yeshua let out a sleepy yawn, Crawly crossed the cave and pulled him to his feet. “Get thee behind me, Satan.” Yeshua snapped at Crawly as he was lifted from the floor, and it was obvious that the hunger was getting to him.

“Oh for hell’s sake, Yesh, you know I’m not Satan, don’t be like that. Look, no temptations. Just want to show you something.” Yeshua pursed his lips but nodded, apparently resigned to one final attempt to get him to sin and knowing that Crawly wouldn’t let him sleep until he’d tried it. He had no idea that this was just the start.

Crawly snapped his fingers and they found themselves on top of Quarantania. The sky was clear, and the stars glimmered in the firmament. The wind whipped their clothing around them and Yeshua gazed out into the distance. “What am I looking at?”

“Hang on.” It was a tricky bit of magic and it took Crawly a moment, but suddenly, laid out before them, were all the kingdoms of the world.

“Why, Crawly?” He couldn’t quite gauge Yeshua’s tone from the question, but he knew he needed to open a door for later, so he kept on, even without knowing what reaction he might get.

“Because I’ve learned quite a bit from you while we’ve been baking on this forsaken mountain, and I thought I’d show you my gratitude.”

He could almost hear Yeshua roll his eyes.

“Okay fine, maybe I also want a favor. It’s an easy one, though – no sinning required. We can talk about when you’re ready to leave. Until then, enjoy the view.” Crawly opted not to elaborate, and Yeshua didn’t press him on it. It didn’t matter anyway, Crawly knew. The whole thing was just a set up. Yeshua sank down into the coarse scrub and crossed his legs, gazing out at the world Crawly had brought to his feet.

They stayed at the summit all night, with Yeshua taking in all of his Mother’s creations. Crawly saw how his eyes lingered on the Chinese pagodas and the Mayan pyramids, smiling just a little at the human ingenuity he’d never get to see during this life. The demon kept his mouth shut, letting Yeshua think what he would about this little bit of earthly delight. And then, in the morning, once the stars had set, Crawly let the vision wash away into the desert sunrise.

Yeshua got to his feet and moved toward the path that would lead them back down to the cave. Before he started down, he turned back to Crawly. “So, demon, what price does last night bear?”

“Spare me the theatrics, Yesh.” Yeshua shook his head and started off down the path, with Crawly following behind him. Crawly kept talking. “I just want you to consider a question that I have, and to give me an answer, when the time is right. A while back, you called me ‘irreversibly damned.’ I know you’re probably right on that point, but it’d be nice to know for sure. And it’s not like I can ask God directly. Ssssso, think about it for me, please. Is there any way that a demon fallen from Her grace could ever return to Her light?”

Yeshua stopped in the middle of the path and turned once again to face Crawly, suspicion plain on his face. “That’s it? Really?”

“Really. I’ll come find you soon and you can tell me what you think.”

Crawly didn’t wait for a reply, only staying long enough to watch Yeshua’s face and make sure that his request fully registered. Then he snapped himself out of existence, leaving the ever-so-slightly bewildered Messiah on the side of the mountain. From the last glimpse he had of Yeshua, he had a feeling that step one of his plan had been successful.


	2. Chapter 2

Crawly waited about a year before she went to Yeshua again. She wanted to make sure he had some time to build up his theology, now that he was really setting out on his public ministry. She wanted him to gather some followers, some people he could debate and share ideas with, in the hope that he would consider her question as thoroughly as possible before she returned. It would be a win-win for her either way. Maybe he’d come up with something and actual redeem her from an eternity of torment, and if not, well, at least she’d have her opening for step two.

She found him again in Cana. He was at a family wedding and had caused a bit of a ruckus when he performed his first public miracle. As everyone in the bridegroom’s home exclaimed about the quality of the wine that had just been brought out, Crawly sidled up to Yeshua’s side, taking advantage of a brief moment when none of his disciples were nearby.

“Hello, Yesh. Miss me?” she murmured into his ear.

“Crawly.” It wasn’t a question – Yeshua knew who she was.

“In the flesh. Probably best not to call me that, though, seeing as how everyone here knows me as Mary.”

Of course, no one had known her as anything at all until about five minutes ago, but she needed people to treat her like any other wedding guest. So with a quick snap of the fingers, they all had fond memories in their heads of a beloved distant cousin, Mary, who had come from Magdala to attend the wedding.

Yeshua sighed. It was clear that he had very much been hoping that Crawly wouldn’t reappear. He was out of luck on that count.

“So, have you thought about my question? Can a demon be redeemed?” she asked, circling around to face him.

His face turned pensive and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, one of his new disciples approached with two glasses of wine. Crawly had heard there were twelve of them, and that Yeshua had brought them along to the wedding for a quick break from all of the proselytizing.

“Well, these were going to be for Yeshua and me, but please allow me to offer you a glass…” The man trailed off as he approached, not knowing how to address her. He wasn’t part of the bridegroom’s family and thus had no false memory of Mary Magdalene.

“Mary of Magdala. Thank you…” She paused in turn, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Simon Peter of Capernaum. You’re most welcome. Here, take this, and I’ll go grab one more.” He handed the cups off to Crawly and to Yeshua, then disappeared into the crowd. Crawly stood before Yeshua in companionable silence, waiting to see if Yeshua would pick back up the thread of their conversation, but he stayed quiet, almost as if he didn’t want to give her an opening. After a few minutes, Simon Peter reappeared with a third cup.

“So, how do you and Yeshua know each other?”

The corners of Crawly’s lips turned up into a smirk as he saw Yeshua’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in alarm at what she might say. “I met him shortly after he was baptized in the River Jordan. He didn’t have nearly as much of a following then. I hear his ministry has been growing quite a bit in the last year, though. Considering lots of great theological questions and the like. How did you come to be in his service?”

Yeshua looked annoyed at Crawly’s implication that Simon Peter was his servant, but the man didn’t bat an eye. “My brother Andrew and I were fishermen, until Yeshua called us to be fishers _of _men.” He seemed to feel it was enough of an explanation and didn’t elaborate further. Crawly had the feeling that Simon Peter was the kind of guy who would be more than a little self-righteous about the fact that he was traveling around with the Son of God, not that he had cause to know it yet. She could already tell that he was going to be insufferable.

“And what have you caught in your nets so far, oh fisher of men?” Crawly asked him.

Simon Peter launched into a monologue on Yeshua’s goals of bringing people to God’s light by teaching them to treat each other with kindness. Crawly nodded along politely, only barely paying attention after the first minute or so. She was trying not to laugh at the fact that Yeshua was fidgeting beside her. She realized she’d never actually seen him around other people before and wondered what had him so uncomfortable, whether it was her presence or something else entirely.

The disciple didn’t seem to notice that neither Crawly nor Yeshua was actually listening to him and he probably would have continued on ad eternum if it hadn’t been for the arrival of the brother he’d mentioned earlier. Andrew apparently needed Simon Peter for something elsewhere, and he apologized profusely for having to cut their conversation short before taking his leave. As the two men walked off, Crawly shifted around Yeshua again so that she was back by his side, her body just a little too close to his as they leaned up against the wall. 

“Well, that was adorable,” she sniggered.

“Simon Peter is devout and dedicated to my Mother’s teachings… and yes, he can be a bit much, I suppose. But he’s thrown himself into this life and he shares the Word of God with everyone he meets, so I can hardly fault him for that. What do you care, demon?”

“Now Yesh, there’s no need for name-calling. What has Mary Magdalene ever done to you that you would call her a demon? That’s just rude.” She laughed as she tugged his arm free from around his waist and slid hers into it, as they stood together at the outskirts of the wedding party. It was the most she had ever touched him, yet she knew the implications that this kind of casual touch carried with it. She peered up at his face and found him looking a bit crestfallen, almost like he had when she’d left him on the mountain.

“Crawly…”

“Mary.”

“Mary. What are you doing?” He was practically hissing, to Crawly’s delight. “I’m sure you know that only a wife would touch her husband so openly. And you are not my wife.” He had gone from bewildered to scowling, having finally caught on that she was teasing him. Crawly thought he hadn’t quite remembered how to deal with her yet, but she absolutely intended to give him a chance to work it out.

“Not yet, anyway.” She let it sink in for a moment, then continued. “Well, I’m bored, so I’m going to head back to your room.”

“My room?” he spluttered. The wine in his cup, which had remained untouched from the moment Simon Peter had handed it to him, sloshed out over the rim as he whirled sideways to stare down at her.

“Yes, your room. We have things to talk about, after all, _husband_.”

“I’m not your husband,” he snapped.

“Yes darling,” she sing-songed back at him.

“_Crawly..._”

“Mary.”

She could almost see the thoughts click into place as he realized that she was going to do whatever she wanted anyway. “Fine. Third door on the right past the kitchen. I’ll be along shortly.”

\-----

Step two was moving along splendidly, she thought. The plan ultimately had four steps. First, she had let her question fester in his head. Was there any salvation for a fallen angel? If there was, she could bet that he would find it, and that he would offer it to her. If there was anything she had learned on Quarantania, it was that Yeshua was stubborn to a fault and ready to spend his life redeeming others in his Mother’s name.

Second, she had found a way to stay near him, though she was still in the implementation stage on this part. Crawly knew she’d get that solidified later in the evening. She knew she needed to be in his line of sight on a regular basis, just like she had been on the mountain, so that he would never have her far from his mind. She needed him thinking about her.

She was going to marry him (and wasn’t he just going to hate that).

Third, she would lull him into a sense of security. Let him believe that she was truly coming around to his teachings. That she, a demon, genuinely wanted to be saved, and that she was willing to do anything he told her in order to return to God’s grace. Hell, she might even let him try saving her, if he happened to come up with anything worthwhile. It’s not like things could really get worse if he failed.

And then the death blow would come with step four. He would come to trust her, confide in her, have faith in her, and she would swallow him whole like the serpent she had always been. She would get him to let his guard down and then… Well, then he would fall. She hadn’t quite gotten to how exactly she was going to make that happen, but she’d figure it out along the way. Planning had never exactly been her strong suit, so she was pretty pleased with herself for getting as far as she had.

Crawly sprawled out in Yeshua’s bed, waiting for him to come find her. She had intended to be awake when he got there, but he was taking so long leaving the party that she found herself drifting off. She decided to let herself fall asleep – it would be his first glimpse of that false sense of security she was looking to cultivate. She kept her clothes on, though, as she thought that too much performative vulnerability would give her away.

She stirred when she heard the door creak, rolling over and sighing as she realized that Yeshua was there. She didn’t know how long she had been out, but she guessed it had been two hours or so, going by the state of the candle. She watched as he pushed the door open quietly, giving himself just enough space to enter, clearly trying to ensure that no one would see the woman in his bed. He shut it quickly behind him and locked it, throwing the bolt that would ensure no one would walk in on them.

“Crawly,” he began.

“Really, darling, you’re going to need to get used to calling me Mary. Especially now that Simon Peter’s met me. I’m sure he’s already told Andrew who I am. He seems like a gossip, frankly.” She gave him a lazy smile from the bed.

“It doesn’t matter what Simon Peter calls you, as you’ll be leaving after this conversation, demon.” He glared at her, but her smile didn’t fade, nor did she move to untangle herself from his blanket. She did sit up, though, and found herself at eye level with him as he sat down on the far end of the bed from her. The stormy expression lingered on his face for a moment, and then he sighed.

“What do you want, Crawly? Why are you here?” he asked.

“You know why I’m here, Yeshua. I asked you to think about something for me, and said I’d be back to hear what you came up with. So let’s have it, oh mighty Son of God. Any ideas? Am I truly irreversibly damned, or is there any possible way to redeem a demon?”

Yeshua almost seemed to shrink into himself. “I don’t know.”

Crawly could work with that.

“You don’t know? What have you been doing for the last year? I mean, even if you were busy, all you had to do was ask Her.” It was her turn to scowl a bit.

“I did.” He stared down into his lap. “She didn’t answer me.”

“And what do your disciples think?”

“We haven’t discussed it. I’d rather they use their talents to save human souls than demonic ones.” And then the glare was back, Yeshua’s words having reinforced for him that it wasn’t just some human woman twisted up in his bedclothes, but the demon who had brought original sin into the world. He stood and moved up the bed, seemingly intent on physically removing her rather than continuing the conversation. “Now that’s enough. Get out.”

Crawly pouted at him. “I’m not going anywhere. You promised me you’d think about whether there was a way for me to be saved. That’s the only thing I’ve wanted for thousands of years. From the moment I crashed into the boiling sulfur of hell, the only thing I’ve thought about is getting out.” The best lies always contained hints of the truth. “Your Mother sure as heaven isn’t going to tell me how to do it. So you’re my only hope.”

She heard Yeshua mutter something along the lines of, “…never promised anything…” She kept going. “But apparently you can’t be bothered to help me if I’m not right here in your face. So guess what, Yesh? Now I’m your wife, and I’m not leaving until I get a real answer.”

She snapped her fingers and felt the ripples surge out from Yeshua’s bedroom. He launched himself at her, having felt the change in the air, but it was too late. His fingers closed around her wrist and pinned it against the wall at the side of the bed, holding her down as if he expected her to struggle to get away.

“Crawly, what did you do?” he growled at her.

She couldn’t help herself. She lurched forward and kissed him on the mouth. It wasn’t meant to be sensual, just a little something to really bring the point home to him.

“I married us, darling. Yeshua Nazarene and Mary Magdalene, husband and wife. I even registered it with the Romans for good measure. Good luck getting rid of me now. You want me gone? Sssave me, Yesh.”

\-----

As Crawly had expected, Yeshua was properly horrified at finding himself in this situation. Hell, anyone would have difficulty with suddenly finding himself married to a demon. But Crawly knew she had the upper hand, as she happened to know that Yeshua’s own ability to work miracles was limited. Hell had been keeping surveillance on him and had learned that he could only perform miracles in connection with his ministry. So Crawly knew that there would be no snap of the fingers to reverse what was now engraved in the minds of everyone who knew him – Mary was Yeshua’s devoted wife, who would never leave his side.

She also knew that Yeshua couldn’t just up and leave her either. Under Hebrew law, divorce was out of the question unless one of them committed adultery. Mary’s love for Yeshua would never allow her to do something so horribly sinful as to be unfaithful to her husband. That would be beneath her. And it’s not like the Rabbi Yeshua of Nazarene was going to be publicly unfaithful.

Which meant he was stuck with her.

After the wedding at Cana, Crawly had joined Yeshua and his disciples as they wandered through Galilee, turning the hearts and minds of the people to see the light of God. After all, it wouldn’t do for Yeshua to travel the country without his beloved wife to care for him on the road. She made herself at home with him, to his dismay. When they’d stop to eat, she’d cook for him (though that quickly turned into cooking for all of them, unfortunately, but she had to keep up appearances). When they made camp, she put up his tent and spread out his bedding. Each night when it was time for everyone to retire, she sprawled out in his tent and grinned at him as he changed into his sleeping garments. She supposed she ought to get used to calling it _their _tent, really.

Married or not, Yeshua tried to avoid touching Crawly. When they were alone in the tent at night, he would sleep at the far end of the bedding, putting as much distance between them as he could without moving onto the hard ground. Some nights she would just roll her eyes and go to sleep, but some nights she reveled in scooting down closer to him just to get him riled up. It made her laugh when he would get up and walk to the other end of the bed when she got too close. Every time she laughed at him he would groan into his hands. She got used to mutterings along the lines of, “Mother I know you said you would test me, but isn’t this a bit much?”

Crawly usually eased up on him during the day, when there were other people around. She hung to the back of the group when they were traveling, but always stayed within earshot of Yeshua while they were on the move, just in case he and the disciples happened to discuss the question she had posed. It didn’t really matter to her if there was an answer or not, but she needed to be able to use it as a bargaining tool if they ever came up with one, so she stayed close and listened.

Whenever they stopped for Yeshua to preach to one of the little towns they passed through, she would sit off to the side, but always in his line of sight. He never looked her way, but she kept her eyes on him while he gave his sermons. She knew that one day he would look at her, and she needed to be absolutely focused on him when that day arrived. He needed to see her devotion, see her coming around to the side of good.

None of which was to say that she had just up and stopped being a demonic temptress. Of course she couldn’t just go cold turkey. Yeshua wouldn’t have believed it of her, and besides, it wasn’t in her nature. So she walked a fine line between maintaining Yeshua’s understanding of her as a silver-tongued devil and allowing him to glimpse the façade of kindness and compassion that would ultimately be his undoing.

Crawly kept it light, though. Her temptations were always enough to get Yeshua to scowl at her, but never enough to cause any real damage. She especially enjoyed riling up the disciples over little things. One evening at dinner, there had been three pieces of bread left in the basket that Philip passed to Bartholomew, but when it got to Bartholomew’s hands, there were none. Bartholomew got annoyed at Philip and asked why he’d hand him an empty basket instead of just telling him there was no bread, and it led to them bickering for the rest of the night over why nobody was considerate anymore these days. She’d snickered under her breath for most of the night and Yeshua had told her off later in the tent for interfering with their normally peaceable natures.

If Crawly had to admit it, getting Yeshua to tell her off was half the reason she kept doing it. When she first joined their group, it seemed like making him mad was the only way to get him to talk to her. He’d ignore her all day while they were out preaching, only sitting near her during dinner so as not to draw attention, given that it would have been seen as odd for him to avoid his own wife. And he rarely talked to her in their tent at all, if he could help it. When he did, he was always tight-lipped and only ever offered her a curt tone. She’d be offended, if she hadn’t seen on Quarantania just how stubborn he could be.

So she mostly split her time between listening to Yeshua preach and harassing his disciples. Simon Peter was always Crawly’s favorite target for mischief. They may have called the other one Simon the Zealot, but Simon Peter was so full of his own good works that it didn’t even take all that much to get him going. All she had to do was ask him how his wife was doing back home, and he’d start up about how women were meant to stay at with the children and stick to their wifely duties. She’d goad him until he was outright railing against the position of women in the church and then just wait for Yeshua to appear and start lecturing him.

Yeshua had made it clear that women were welcome in his ministry. At first Crawly thought it was because he needed an easy explanation for why she was around when everyone else had to leave their wives at home, but she soon realized that wasn’t it. No, Yeshua seemed to truly believe that women were as vital to spreading the Word of God as men were. She asked him about it one night in their tent, out of sheer curiosity, though she half expected he would just ignore her. “Yeshua, I have a question for you.”

He turned to face her, rolling over from his position at the end of the bed. His eyes were sharp, clearly wary of her intent, but he allowed her to continue. “Yes, Craw… Mary?”

She gave him a smile. Not a smirk, not a grin, nothing cheeky, just a soft smile, a little thank you for finally starting to use the name she had chosen for this and making things a little easier for both of them. Like everything she did, it was calculated to get him to loosen up.

“Thank you darling. Anyway, I was wondering why you encourage women to join your merry band of followers. Women aren’t permitted to be rabbis, so the Hebrews aren’t going to listen to them if they try to spread your message. It seems like you’re just looking at more mouths to feed and less of a benefit to get out of them.”

Yeshua looked at her, uncertain if she was trying to provoke him or not. He must’ve decided she wasn’t, because he answered her openly. “Well, for one thing, my Mother chooses to present Herself as female when she takes an earthly form. It would be downright hypocritical to not let women into Her ministry.”

“Tell Simon Peter that,” she snickered.

“Leave him out of this, demon.”

She put her hands up in concession and he continued. “But mostly, it’s because women are actually better to spread my Mother’s message, at least to other women. They’ve been oppressed by traditional religious structures for far too long now, and they’re distrustful of the rabbis in the temples, who, admittedly, are rather prone to stripping them of what little autonomy they have. But if another woman comes and tells them about God’s almighty love and Her commandments that we be kind to one another, that’s another thing entirely.”

Crawly was surprised to find him giving a well-reasoned answer. She’d half expected him to admit that it really had just been about not drawing attention to her presence. She liked this better, though. There weren’t enough men in the world who could recognize a woman’s true power. It was a shame it wouldn’t do anything for him in the end.


	3. Chapter 3

Crawly didn’t bring her question up to Yeshua again for a few months. That wasn’t really the point, after all. The question of redemption was just a means to an end for her, a reason for her to stay around him until she got what she wanted. But she knew that she couldn’t set it aside entirely, or else he might catch on to the fact that she was there for something other than the express purpose of her own salvation. So she let it go for a time, while she let him get used to having her around, and waited for the right moment to raise the issue.

One morning, as she stretched in bed, watching him move around and get ready for the day, he turned to her and she noted that a blush had stained his cheeks all the way around to his ears. It was the first time he’d shown her any kind of vulnerability when they were alone. Normally he was imperious and sure of himself, but he almost seemed embarrassed. “What is it, Yesh?”

“I… Well, I… The thing is, we’re going to Nazareth next,” he mumbled. She didn’t see why his hometown would cause him to turn such a lovely shade of pink, so she waited to see what would come next.

“And, um… Well… That means my mother is going to meet you,” he finished. Crawly knew that Yeshua had to mean his earthly mother. God already knew her, after all, and even if She hadn’t, it’s not like Yeshua would’ve taken a demon home to meet Her. She didn’t know what had him all tied up in knots about it though.

“Yesh, your mother already knows me,” she said, rising out of the bed in her simple linen shift. “Remember? I snapped my fingers in Cana and everyone knew Mary, the wife of Yeshua? I didn’t skip over your parents with that one, or your siblings, for that matter.” She moved over to the bundle that carried her change of clothes, deciding that she’d go ahead and wear her clean outfit, if they were headed toward town.

To her surprise, he had moved closer to her while she was talking. He generally kept his distance when there was no one else around, so it was more than a little out of place. She sucked in a breath that was very nearly a gasp when he came close enough brush his hand down her waist, letting his fingers settle over her hip. He shivered as he touched her, and she could hardly make out what it meant. “Yeshua?” she prodded.

He sighed, keeping his hand on her and daring to place the other on her opposite hip. “Yes, my mother knows you exist. But she thinks you’re a human woman, Mary of Magdala, not the demon Crawly. And she’s going to wonder why I’m not touching you. Why you aren’t….” He shivered again. “Pregnant.”

Shivers of disgust, it seemed. It didn’t matter, though. He had his hands on her, and that was a start. He knew he was touching a demon, but he was doing it anyway, and she would be damned if she wouldn’t use it to her advantage. “You’re a rabbi, Yesh. Nobody expects you to be giving public displays of affection. And six months of marriage really isn’t that long.” She rolled her eyes at him, not unkindly, and moved to shift away from his touch, working to reinforce the sense of security she’d been creating in him.

As she pulled back, he caught her hand in his and kept her from stepping away.

“Mary.”

“Yes?”

“My mother isn’t going to accept ‘but I’m a rabbi’ as a reason for not touching you. My disciples may know better than to ask questions that are none of their business, but this is my mother. And I’d rather not have to explain to her that a demon from Hell has insinuated itself into my life and my ministry and refused to leave until I find some way to offer it my heavenly Mother’s redemption.”

Crawly was a bit put out by being referred to as “it,” but didn’t interrupt. “Since telling my mother I’ve been traveling around with a demon in my tent instead of a wife is out of the question, I… Well… Well, I’m just practicing, Mary.” He let out a low chuckle, as if he could hear how ridiculous he sounded. He moved the hand not holding hers lightly up her waist, shifting it away to avoid touching her breast, but then brought it back to rest on her shoulder.

He let go of her hand, placing his in the hollow of her throat, his fingers wrapping around behind her ear and whispering against the fine auburn strands tucked away there. He shivered once more, and then very nearly discorporated her as he leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“My mother might know you, Mary Magdalane, but you have yet to meet my mother.”

\-----

Four days later, they arrived in Nazareth to find that Yeshua’s family had already started preparing the welcome home party. One of the disciples had been sent ahead to let Mary and Joseph know they were coming, so by the time they arrived at Yeshua’s childhood home, they were well on their way to having a full feast ready. They could smell herbs and roast lamb wafting up from one side of the house and Crawly’s mouth watered, even though she’d never really got into the habit of eating. Yeshua looked around for Crawly as they approached the house, catching her eyes and beckoning her over with a look.

She moved in his direction, watching to see what it was he wanted from her as she neared him. She reached him as they came through the courtyard, and he wrapped his fingers in hers before he opened the front door and moved into the house, pulling her along with him. Crawly sighed internally. Apparently he was going to commit to this, even though she’d spent the last four days telling him that it really wasn’t necessary, Mary of Nazareth wouldn’t ask any questions that Crawly didn’t want her to, and that everything would be fine, Yesh, for hell’s sake.

Her protests had made Yeshua feel safe, which was the whole point of step three of the plan. And the fact that he had somehow decided that he needed to touch Crawly anyway was what showed it was starting to work. He was right about one thing, though.

Mary Nazarene was downright formidable.

“Daughter!” No sooner were they through the door than she found herself being tugged away from Yeshua and into the embrace of an older woman. It seemed that the memories she’d implanted had taken root rather nicely. Yeshua’s mother squeezed her tightly and then held her back by the shoulders, looking her up and down.

“Welcome back, Mary, dear. I’m so glad you’ve talked some sense into my son and gotten him to come home for a few nights of good rest and better food. You’re both too skinny. You especially. It’s been ages now. If the two of you won’t give me a granddaughter, then the least I can do is fatten you up a bit.”

And with that she was off, puttering back to the kitchen to continue working on the food for later. Crawly watched, open-mouthed, as she moved away from them. Yeshua’s expression was full of mirth and she could practically hear him whispering his “I told you so” into her ear from across the way as he greeted his father. As his mother left the room, Yeshua’s youngest siblings crowded in around her instead. Two little boys and a little girl. They didn’t look much like Yeshua, she thought, but then, they did only share half the DNA.

The little heathens weren’t shy about what they wanted. “Mary! Did you bring us any presents? Yesh _always _forgets to bring us presents. Don’t you, Yesh?” He’d come up next to his siblings, Joseph by his side, and was watching with a grin to see how Crawly would handle it. Little did he know that Crawly had always been a deft hand with children and a skilled miracle worker, when she wanted to be. She put her arms behind her back, and when she brought them forward again, she had two toy swords and a toy bow and arrow.

“Of course I remembered to bring you presents, you silly things.” The three cheered, and the two boys reached forward to take the toy swords before their sister could grab one. They immediately ran off without saying thank you, and Joseph chased off after them, trying to instill some discipline in the youngest of his brood. Only the girl stayed in the room, a little shimmer of disappointment on her face as she reached for the toy bow and arrow and thanked Crawly for it.

Yeshua saw it, too. “You don’t like it, Salome?”

The little girl looked torn. “I wanted one of the swords,” she mumbled.

Crawly wished she could go back in time by two minutes without anyone noticing and miracle up three swords and to hell with variety, but she didn’t think she could get away with it right now. Instead, she sank to the ground and pulled the girl into her lap. Salome must’ve been all of about seven, she thought.

“Why did you want a sword, dear?” Crawly asked. The girl looked up at her, clearly unsure if it was safe to answer with the whole truth. She must’ve decided that it was, though. “Because they’re the best weapon, and I’m a better fighter than my brothers. I should have a sword, not Judah.”

Crawly laughed in delight. “Salome, do you want to know a secret?” She could see that Yeshua had moved off to the side, but that he was keeping a careful eye on the demon holding his sister, especially now that they were the only ones in the room. Salome nodded, her head bumping against Crawly’s collar bone. “A bow and arrow is a _much _better weapon than a sword.”

Salome looked up at her then, waiting until Crawly looked down and met her gaze, before rolling her eyes so hard that Crawly wouldn’t have been surprised at all if they had gotten lost somewhere up in the back of her head. This was clearly Yeshua’s sister. “Maaaarrrryyyyyyy come on, that’s stupid.”

“It’s not, dear. Here’s the thing. There’s nothing subtle about a sword. It’s big, and heavy, and you have to get up very close to your opponent to be able to use it. It’s not good for anything other than killing. But a bow and arrow? That’s something else entirely. You can use it to hunt food when you’re hungry, to send a signal into the sky when you need help. And when it’s time to fight? You have the advantage of never having to go near the other person. The only thing that’s stupid is whoever told you that a sword was a better option.”

Salome looked over at Yeshua and burst into peals of laughter, launching herself up out of Crawly’s lap and racing over to her brother. She stopped in front of him just long enough to yell, “Mary called you stupid!” before running out the door, screaming at the top of her lungs that she got the better toy and that she was going to shoot both of her brothers and they’d never see it coming. She tore past her father in the yard and took off up the hill after them, Joseph panting along behind all three and calling for them to come back down this instant.

Yeshua normally wouldn’t have put up with Crawly disguising mischief as a miracle, but this time he didn’t seem to mind. He chuckled at his sister’s antics, shifting away from the wall he’d been leaning against and moving toward Crawly. He didn’t come close enough to touch, but she could see in his eyes that he was more pleased than annoyed by the interaction. “Thank you, Mary.”

“For what?”

“For not eating my sister. Or whatever demons do when they aren’t getting what they want.” She could hear by his tone that he was teasing, but she spluttered all the same, feigning indignation.

“Eat her?! Why in hell’s name would I eat her? How would eating her convince you to help me escape eternal damnation? Eat her, honestly, Yesh, you’re a right idiot sometimes.”

She didn’t need him to know that she was equally pleased with how things had gone. Let him think her indignant, annoyed that she was having to put up with his family and his friends all for the sake of getting her answer. He didn’t need to know how thrilled she was everything was working just the way she’d planned.


	4. Chapter 4

In keeping with custom, Crawly had gone to join Yeshua’s mother in the kitchen after Salome had run off. While she didn’t really agree with the fact that all of the women were in the kitchen while all of the men sat outside smoking pipes and drinking wine, she also wasn’t going to make the women work harder by not doing her fair share. She let Mary assign her tasks throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, until the men finally started to wander in and help carry the steaming dishes of food out to the courtyard.

Eating outside was really the only option when the dinner party included a family of ten, twelve disciples, and a handful of cousins and neighbors who had come to join them as well. Joseph and Yeshua had pushed a line of tables into one long banquet table where everyone was able to sit together. Sometime during the afternoon, the children had climbed up into the trees and hung lanterns full of fat candles that would burn throughout the evening. The table was laden with all of the food they’d prepared, and the men had brought out an entire barrel of wine so that they wouldn’t have to keep going inside for more. Crawly would die before she ever said it out loud, but it was all rather lovely.

Joseph took his place at the head of the table, with Mary to his right. Yeshua took the chair to his left, which was his place as the presumed eldest of Joseph’s children. Crawly moved to sit beside Yeshua, but Mary called her over to her side instead. “Daughter, sit with me! My son has the pleasure of never leaving your company, while I haven’t seen you in months. Indulge your mother-in-law, won’t you?” Crawly had no qualms about it, though she could see a quick flicker of hesitation in Yeshua’s eyes. She crossed behind Joseph and then Mary, and then took her seat to the right of Yeshua’s mother.

Mary leaned in and whispered to her conspiratorially, “Besides, it’s easier to talk about him from over here!” Crawly couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at that, and Mary was chuckling too. Yeshua’s look of concern had intensified a bit, and that just made her want to laugh all the harder. But before they could say anything more, Joseph raised a hand for quiet. As the sun went down behind them, he turned to Yeshua and spoke for everyone to hear. “Normally, it would be my duty to offer the Shabbat blessing. But as my son the rabbi is present, I will pass that duty on to him instead. Yeshua, please.”

Crawly saw just a bit of a flush creep into Yeshua’s cheeks and couldn’t help but grin. Here was a man who said the Shabbat blessing for his followers every week, but now that he was at home with his parents, he was shy. Crawly felt a little stab of affection, but quickly collected herself while Yeshua began to speak. “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, Creator of the fruit of the vine…”

She had heard it enough times coming from Yeshua that she could hear how his inflection was different this time. He sounded more subdued, but at the same time more reverent, like it meant more for him to ask his Mother’s blessing when he was here with his earthly family. As he spoke the last of the words and everyone called out “amen!”, she could swear that his eyes watered just a bit. She raised an eyebrow when he caught her looking at him, but he just shrugged at her in return, the smallest hint of a grin on his lips.

The noise level rose quickly as people started passing the food around and exclaiming over how delicious everything was. Crawly knew there was no way she would eat more than a few bites, but she filled her plate up all the same. She’d gotten the sense that there was no way Mary was going to let her get away with not eating a full meal. She figured she’d just disappear the food whenever Mary wasn’t looking. The lamb really was fantastic though, she had to admit.

Mary chatted to her throughout the night about how things were in Nazareth. She told her about how Salome and little Mary were rebellious little hellions but good-hearted girls, really. She talked about how Joses and Judah misbehaved all the time and how she was a little worried, since Joses had a bit of a mean streak in him. She babbled on about how the older two, James and Simeon, were doing now that they were apprenticing with Joseph in the carpentry shop. “Much better than Yeshua, I can tell you that!”

Mary had said it at full volume, wanting Yeshua to hear how she was teasing him and to give his attention over to his mother and his wife. He turned toward them, relaxed from the wine and smiling, and his mother continued. “Nearly eighteen years he worked as a carpenter under Joseph, and somehow these chairs still came out wobbly! Frankly, I wish he would’ve met that John the Baptist much sooner, then we’d have a better table!” She laughed at her own teasing, and Crawly could tell that there was no real meanness in it. Yeshua knew it too, because he just gave his mother a fond look and turned back to his conversation with Judas.

As he turned away, Mary leaned in toward Crawly with a sigh. She put her hand over Crawly’s on the table and the laughter on her face faded into something more weary. She leaned into Crawly and murmured, “How is it going with the preaching? Tell me the truth, Mary, dear. I know how he is, so don’t sugarcoat it. Has he started telling them he’s the son of God yet?”

Crawly wasn’t really sure what to do with the question. The answer itself was simple enough – no, he hadn’t. The disciples thought he was a prophet, endowed by God with the ability to work miracles in order to spread Her good works. Of the group that traveled with him, only Crawly knew the truth. Where the question got tricky was in the fact that Crawly didn’t know how much of that truth that Mary herself knew. She thought that a simple shake of the head might be the safest answer, in this case, at least until she had a better idea of exactly what Mary’s understanding of the situation was.

Mary sighed. “He’s not, you know. He’s Joseph’s, through and through. Virgin birth, ha. I was hardly a virgin, Joseph and I had been together for more than a year by the time he was conceived. But you’re a smart girl, you know better than that. Still, there’s no stopping him when he gets something like that in his head. He’s so stubborn. I’m sure it’ll start to come out soon, and I worry about what could happen to him…”

Now that was interesting.

Not only did Mary not know the truth, she apparently thought Yeshua was just a little bit crazy. Crawly filed that away in the back of her mind for later. She couldn’t focus on it, with Mary continuing on. “Well, at least he has you to keep him on track, I suppose. Do me a favor, daughter. Don’t let him get to wild about it when he does, since it’s probably unavoidable. You and I both know how he can get. Try to keep him safe for me, please.”

Something was burning in the back of Crawly’s throat and she couldn’t force herself to respond to Mary with words. It was all she could do to nod and squeeze Mary’s hand, but even that felt wrong. Her gut twisted, an all too human reaction to the guilt she was feeling. Here she was, doing everything in her power to tempt Yeshua into falling, but his mother had just commended him into her hands for safekeeping. For just a moment, she felt a twinge of something like regret, but then steeled herself. She reminded herself that she was the demon Crawly, not Mary Magdalene, and that this was all part of the job. Her purpose was to tempt, and in this, she was tempting Mary into feeling safe. So why was her chest so tight?

She did the only thing she could do: refill her cup with wine and drink deeply. Crawly had never taken to food, but drinking, well, alcohol was something she could get behind. She drank it down in one go, then poured herself another. Mary just laughed at her. “He certainly is a handful, daughter dearest, so you probably ought to have another for good measure!”

As Mary was speaking, Salome ran up to them and threw herself into Crawly’s lap. She glared at her mother and said, “_I’m _your dearest daughter, mum, you can’t tell Mary that. She’s not even your actual daughter, she’s just married to Yesh. That doesn’t count!” Crawly chuckled into the girl’s hair and shifted her wine cup so it was a bit further away from Salome, who accentuated every phrase with wild hand gestures. She reminded Crawly of Yeshua a bit, the way he would wave his arms around when he was preaching and got overexcited about something.

Mary gave Salome a gentle whack on the leg. “Being married to Yeshua makes her my daughter by law. She might not be my flesh and blood, but she very much does count. She loves Yeshua and Yeshua loves her, so she is our family just as he is. She’s your sister as much as she’s my daughter,” Mary told her. “But yes, you are my dearest, Salome, and so are your brothers and your sister.”

Salome rolled her eyes again and Crawly found herself wondering where they got it from. She didn’t think she’d seen Mary roll her eyes like that, and couldn’t imagine Joseph doing it either, but it seemed that all seven of their children were prone to it, from what Crawly had seen at dinner. Salome kept arguing, saying, “No, mum, it doesn’t work like that! We can’t _all _be your dearest, you have to choose one. And it’s me! Sorry, Mary,” she said, turning to Crawly with a look of sympathy. “But it’s true. I’m mum’s favorite. Don’t tell Yeshua, though. He still thinks it’s him. I let him, because I’m nice,” she said resolutely.

Crawly felt her chest tighten again and admonished herself to get it together. It didn’t matter if Yeshua’s mother and sister were lovely. She knew what she had to do, and the fact that she liked Yeshua’s family wasn’t going to stop her. Still, she sighed. It was much easier to focus on the task at hand when she wasn’t surrounded by the warm glow of lanterns and the smiles of his family and friends. She’d have to convince Yeshua not to stay too long.

\-----

Eventually, someone went to get a refill, only to find that the wine barrel was empty. Shortly after, the disciples excused themselves to head back to the encampment outside the city walls, as there hadn’t been room for all of them at Joseph and Mary’s house. The neighbors and cousins took their leave as well, and Crawly got up to help Mary, Salome, and little Mary carry all of the dishes back inside. She felt a jolt of surprise when Yeshua came over and took half the stack she was carrying, walking with her into the house and depositing everything in the kitchen along with her.

Crawly looked over at him as they set the plates down, wondering what was going through his head, but he kept his face calm and didn’t say anything. Instead, he surprised her yet again by taking her hand and twisting his fingers into hers. She caught herself inhaling sharply, but then she saw Mary off to the side and realized that it was just for show. She relaxed a bit at that and turned to let Yeshua lead her out of the kitchen. Of course, his mother couldn’t let them go without a comment, calling after them, “Think about making me a granddaughter, won’t you?”

Crawly thought she’d see another eyeroll, but it seemed Yeshua was all gentle surprises tonight, because he just chuckled at his mother’s forwardness. He led her back out through the courtyard to another small building offset from the main house, pausing only briefly in the yard to take one of the lanterns that was still hung there. She’d learned at dinner that Joseph had built the addition a few years back when it got to be too much having four boys in one bedroom. It was where James and Simeon normally slept, but tonight they’d be sharing with Joses and Judah again. She’d learned that at dinner as well, mostly because Joses wouldn’t stop the bitter complaints about having to share his bed with his older brothers.

Yeshua let go of her hand as he opened the door, stepping away to place the lantern on a small table by the bed. The bed was nicer than what Crawly had expected, given that it was normally used by two teenage boys, but knowing Mary, she imagined it had probably been aired out earlier in the day. Yeshua sat down near the table, steadying himself on it with one hand as he unlaced his sandals with the other. Crawly could see that he was a bit drunk, but then, so was she. It was the sort of nice, soft, easy drunk that led to a good night’s sleep and uncomplicated dreams.

She was feeling too drowsy to do things manually, so she shut the door behind them and then snapped her fingers lightly, exchanging her daywear for the soft cotton shift she normally slept in. Crawly had always slept naked before she’d taken up with Yeshua, but had assumed it probably would have been a bit much for him, and so had opted to go with as little clothing as possible while still maintaining a modicum of modesty. She stepped around the foot of the bed and settled on the other side across from him. She was ready to bury herself in the bedding and knock out, but she waited first to see where he planned to position himself for the night. No use stretching out long legs if Yeshua was just going to throw himself across the foot of the bed with one of his usual petulant groans.

In keeping with what seemed to be the theme of the night, Yeshua surprised Crawly again. For the first time since she’d joined him six months ago, he didn’t try to put the entirety of the bed between them. He stood only long enough to remove the outer layer of his clothing, leaving nothing but his own simple shift on, before sliding into the bed next to her. He stretched his legs in exactly the way Crawly had been eager to do, raising his arms up over his head and turning it into a luxurious, full-body stretch. Crawly gaped at him, wondering what had gotten into him, but she quickly realized that it wasn’t anything, really. He was just more relaxed in the perceived safety of his home. Whether it was the surroundings or the drinks he’d had, he didn’t seem to mind for once that there was a demon with him in his bed. 

Yeshua turned to his side, facing Crawly instead of giving her his back, and Crawly could practically see the easy, contented glow coming off of him. She couldn’t help the little pang in her chest as she wondered whether he was actually starting to give in to her, and if he was, whether it was because her plan was finally starting to bear fruit or because of something else entirely. She shoved the feeling down, reminding herself for the hundredth time that night that she was the demon Crawly and she would be absolutely blessed if she got distracted from the point of all this. If she didn’t lead the man laying next to her in bed straight to eternal damnation, it would mean her skin, and between the two of them, she still preferred herself.

Crawly pushed her face into the pillow, yanking the blanket up over her head and burying herself in the warmth of the bed. She figured she should just stop looking at him, go to sleep, and start fresh in the morning without all these complicated, wine-induced feelings. She’d convince him to get back on the road and everything would go back to normal, or at least, whatever normal is when one is a demon sent to tempt the Son of God into falling.

“Mary.” Yeshua pulled the blanket back, revealing her face and letting some of the warmth slip out into the cool night air. She groaned at him.

“Crawly.” She was really reminding herself more than him.

“Crawly, then. Though really, you’ve been far more Mary than Crawly today, I’d say.” He smiled at her, and there was that lurch in her stomach, that alarm bell that told her she needed to stay focused on the plan. Then his hand moved under the blanket and he was once again entwining his fingers with hers, and the alarm turned into a siren, screaming into the depths of Crawly’s skull, warning her that she could not let her guard down.

“I know what you’re doing, Crawly-Mary.” She tensed, unable to keep her reaction from showing on her body, but he just laughed. “You should let it go.”

She stared at him, unsure how to interpret what he’d said. She wasn’t enjoying the feeling of not being in control, so she steered the conversation back around to safer waters. Stick to the plan. “What, and pass up the chance of an immortal lifetime to ask a divine being whether or not there’s any way I can avoid spending the rest of eternity swimming laps in a pool of molten brimstone? I don’t think so, Yesh. I’m not going anywhere, darling.”

He continued smiling contentedly at her, and she couldn’t tell how she was meant to interpret the look. He brushed his thumb back and forth on the outside of hers at the place where their hands met, and she had to force down a shiver. For a half a second, she had the wild thought that maybe he was right, maybe she should just give it up, go back to her life and let Beelzebub take it out on her in a couple of years. But no, she’d put too much into this, she wasn’t giving up that easily. She was the Serpent of Eden, and she was going to do what she had to. She allowed herself to admit that she wished she didn’t have to, but that was as far as she would let herself go.

Yeshua had started talking again, but she hadn’t been listening, lost in self-recrimination. She dragged her attention back to him as he continued. “…but that’s just your nature. It wasn’t always, I don’t think, you changed when you fell, and now here you are. Anyway, I was thinking that if you could change once, you could possibly change again, and that might be the key to un-damning you, as it were.”

Wait, what? Had he actually come up with something? “Wait, Yeshua, you lost me. Say that again.”

“I didn’t lose you, Mary. You weren’t paying attention. I’ll let you blame it on the wine. I was saying that I’ve been thinking about the question, and that I think the nature of salvation and damnation relies on a fundamental change in nature. Think about it. When you were cast out, it was due to a change in nature. You had gone from fully trusting God to questioning Her plan.”

“I wouldn’t say that was a _change_,” Crawly huffed.

“It was, though. You were an angel, made to serve unquestioningly. But then, you questioned Her. You lost faith. And you were cast down because of it. Your nature was the nature of faith, but it had changed to the nature of doubt, and you could no longer remain in Heaven,” Yeshua continued.

“Sssso what, then, you think that if I change my nature back, everything will be well and good again? Just go back to blind faith and be welcomed back into the fold? Sorry, Yesh, that’s never going to happen.” Crawly let out an incredulous, almost angry sigh. “You’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”

“Hmmmm…” He pursed his lips, as if considering her point. “I don’t think it’s quite that. I think you have to change, but I’m not sure you have to change _back_. Just change _enough_.” He let out a sigh of his own, squeezing Crawly’s hand. She hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. She disentangled her fingers from his and pulled back to really look at him. She intended to respond with a counterpoint, but then he was talking again.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I hadn’t forgotten and that I’m working on it. I’m not quite there yet, but I think I’m getting somewhere. It’s easier when you aren’t being infuriating,” he chuckled. “Thank you, by the way, for not being infuriating today. For once.” Yeshua reached for her hand again, pulling it back toward him in the space between their bodies and twisting his fingers into hers again. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and the sirens in her head exploded.

“Yeshua, what…?”

He placed their joined hands back down on the pillow. “Nothing, Mary. I forgive you, that’s all.”

Try as Crawly might, she couldn’t find the words to respond. It was like her throat had stopped working. She spent a minute trying to fight down a surge of something that felt a bit like panic. When she finally opened her eyes, she found that Yeshua had closed his. He had relaxed back into the pillow and she could feel the tension easing out of his body as he eased into sleep.

“Crawly,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

More asleep than awake now, he kept his eyes closed, but the sides of his lips turned up.

“Mary.”


	5. Chapter 5

Crawly startled awake the next morning to someone pounding at the door. She heard Salome call out, “Mary! Yesh! Get up! Time for breakfast before we go to temple!”

Crawly groaned and started to stretch, before realizing with a shock that Yeshua’s warm chest was pressed up to her back, his arm draped over her stomach, mumbling a bit as he pulled himself into consciousness. In a flash, she was up and out of the bed, before he could realize how close he’d been to her and before she could let herself think about it for another second. She really needed to get them out of Nazareth.

She snapped her fingers and was instantly clothed, not in the mood to dress herself today. She opted to do her hair by hand, though, settling onto a little bench across from the bed and combing her fingers through her curls, as Yeshua finally sat up and yawned. Crawly glanced over at him as she did up her braid and noted that he was watching her fix her hair with a rather intense concentration for someone who’d only just woken up. She tossed him a smile that she hoped came off as easy and unconcerned.

She couldn’t let him see how rattled she was feeling.

“Good morning, Mary,” he murmured, nearly cutting himself off with another yawn. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, still watching as she finished the braid and tied it off. Once she had removed her hands from her hair, he stood, moving toward her before she could head for the door. He took her hand in his again, and really, it was getting to be a bit much. The crackling tension that she had felt running between them since the night before shattered.

“Yeshua, there’s no one here. There’s really no reason for you to touch me. Your mother’s not here, you haven’t had anything to drink, and you aren’t imparting any divine wisdom, so you’ll either let go of my hand or lose yours.” She could hear the acid dripping from her voice. She honestly couldn’t tell if she’d meant her tone more for Yeshua or for herself, but either way, she thought they both needed a reminder that she was a demon from Hell, not Mary Magdalene.

Yeshua dropped her hand, but it was almost immediately clear that the display hadn’t worked as well as Crawly might have wished. He grinned at her, and the words that followed made it obvious that he either didn’t get the point, or he did and was ignoring it at his own peril. “As you like, Crawly-Mary. Which one of yourselves will you be today, I wonder?”

Exasperated, she opened the door and stepped out into the sun, turning back only for a moment to tell him, “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She closed the door behind her again and made to head across the courtyard. She paced toward the main house but didn’t make it inside before she was intercepted by Salome, who ran over to her from where she’d been sitting at the big table from the night before.

“Mary! Mum made breakfast without us because she said that you and Yesh were busy and that I’ve got so much energy I must be possessed by a demon! But I don’t think you and Yesh were all that busy, I heard Yesh snore right before I knocked on your door. Maybe Mum thought you were doing something else, who knows. And I don’t think I’m possessed by a demon either, but I don’t know how I’d know if I was. How do people know they’re possessed? I suppose they talk in odd voices and run around and kill animals and…” She kept babbling as she walked beside Crawly into the house and back to the kitchen, and Crawly let her carry on, since it entertained her to think how annoyed any demon would feel being stuck in a seven-year-old.

As they entered the kitchen, Mary Nazarene looked up from where she was portioning out warm bread, boiled eggs, and a bit of cheese into ten earthen bowls. “Good morning, daughter mine. I hope you slept well, because my little demon here certainly did. I’m hoping she’ll get all of her chatter out before we head over to the synagogue. Here, dear, take a bowl, get some food in you. Our local rabbis do tend to go on, and knowing Yeshua, I’m sure he’s just as bad, so we’ll need a good proper breakfast if we’re going to make it through the morning.” She passed Crawly and Salome each a bowl and then shooed them out of the kitchen.

Crawly followed the little girl back outside to sit at the table. Salome kept up a steady stream of nonsense while they ate, seemingly content for Crawly to nod or give her an “mmhmm” every once in a while, which meant that Crawly didn’t actually have to pay attention. She had a few bites of the bread and the cheese, but disappeared the eggs, which she had never much enjoyed. As she chewed on the last bit of bread, Yeshua came out of the little side building where they’d slept the night before, looking fresh and ready for whatever the day would bring.

“Yesh! Hurry up and come sit with us, you big lazy goat! Mary and me already finished breakfast without you, so you better move your feet!” Salome yelled at him. Yeshua smiled at his sister and promised he’d be right back. He was only gone a minute or two before he re-emerged with a bowl of breakfast for himself, trailed by all five of his remaining siblings.

“My mother says we’re to watch the children. She seems to think it will be good practice,” he said, lowering himself into one of the seats and smirking at Crawly. James and Simeon, both old enough to catch his meaning, rolled their eyes as they sat down, and for the first time Crawly wondered if maybe they didn’t all pick it up from Yeshua, instead of from one of their parents.

“Little does she know,” Crawly quipped at him, a reminder of the true nature of their relationship. Apparently, she was going to need to hammer it home. A little bit of demonic mischief ought to do the trick. “Eat your breakfast, Yeshua. I hear we’re going to have one _hell_ of a day at the synagogue.”

Yeshua’s smirk turned into a scowl.

\-----

After everyone had eaten and Mary had ensured that all of her children were properly dressed, the family walked as a group to the temple. Yeshua hung back a bit and Crawly stayed by his side, as she would be expected to do. She could feel him struggling with the desire to glare openly at her and demand to know what she was planning. She knew he wouldn’t do it while walking behind his family, though, so she allowed herself to enjoy his squirming. She stayed silent during the walk, projecting a taciturn air that wouldn’t draw attention, a seeming paragon of grace and goodwill. It was making him even more upset and she delighted in it.

As they approached the temple, Yeshua had wound himself up so tightly that he could snap at any moment. Crawly could almost feel him burning a hole in the shawl she had wrapped over her hair as he stared at her. Now he was starting to get the picture. She couldn’t tell if he was more nervous or annoyed about the possibility of what she might do. Either way the apprehension was rolling off of him in waves.

She could see his disciples nearing their group and felt when he noticed them, too, as he made a near visible effort to relax. It cost him rather a bit, given his current state. As his followers came up to his family and they began to greet each other, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back away from them a bit. She turned to face him with a smirk and began talking before he could get started

“Now, don’t you worry your divine head about me. I won’t even come into the temple. I’ll just sit out here among the crowds and wait for you to be done. I can hardly cause any trouble if I’m not inside, can I?” Then she winked at him and he groaned. He sucked in a breath, ready to beg her to behave, but it was too late. Simon Peter was upon them and he didn’t hesitate to take Yeshua’s hand into his own, greeting him with the handshake of fellowship.

As the rest of them came up to welcome Yeshua, Crawly slipped away into the crowd of people milling about outside the door. It was clear that the temple wasn’t big enough to hold everyone who had come to the service, so she had a decent excuse for sitting outside. She moved around the side of the building, away from the door, and decided to sit beneath an olive tree that was planted near one of the open windows. It was perfect; to anyone who passed by, she’d appear to be diligently listening to the service, but really, she’d be waiting for just the right moment to wreak a smidge of havoc.

Crawly knew she had a while before it was Yeshua’s turn to read from the scrolls. She liked that he would have time to sit and stew, to worry that every moment might be the moment that she would cause some kind of scene. Well, she was trying to convince herself she liked it, anyway, as it was certainly the sort of thing she would normally enjoy. But the truth was that something about it just felt wrong, and for the first time that morning, she questioned whether she actually wanted to cause the kind of mischief that had been swirling around in her head. She thought of how he might look at her afterwards and her determination wavered.

It only slipped for a second, though, because the thought of him reminded her that she had been letting her guard down a bit too much over the course of the last day. She needed to remember who she was and stay focused on the long game. She couldn’t let herself get distracted from the ultimate goal. So she listened through the window, waiting until she heard Yeshua’s voice reading from the scroll of Isaiah. 

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…”

She listened as he continued on with the passage, going on about comforting the mourning, and waited for the right moment for a bit of mayhem. She didn’t have to wait long before he practically handed it to her on a silver platter. He rolled up the scroll as he finished and then proclaimed for all the temple to hear: “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing, for I am the Son of God, sent to do Her works.”

The air was charged, and Crawly knew it was now or never if she was going to make a move. She hesitated, her fingers pressed together, unsure of herself for a moment. That feeling of uncertainty was what did it, though. She grimaced at herself and snapped her fingers. She was the demon Crawly, for hell’s sake, and she wasn’t going to just run around with the Son of God and leave things to go as he pleased. That was the entire point, after all.

Following her snap, Crawly heard murmurs of discontent rising in volume inside the temple, then Yeshua’s voice over it all trying to explain himself. She could hear that he was just digging himself a deeper hole, as he tried to make the people of Nazareth understand why he was doing miracles everywhere else in Judea but not in his hometown. The murmurs turned to shouts as the worshippers in the temple rejected him, saying that he could not be the Messiah prophesied in Isaiah if he couldn’t show his own people the power that God had supposedly bestowed upon him. Crawly could hear the words “liar,” “heretic,” and “shameful” being bandied about inside, and knew that this incident would be deeply embarrassing for Yeshua.

She hadn’t accounted for what came next.

The shouting crescendoed as Crawly heard someone in the temple scream, “Get him out of here, he’s an insult to God and Nazareth alike!” A roar rang out through the crowd and she turned to peer through the window just in time to see the scuffle break out. Five or six men dove at Yeshua, knocking him to the floor and presumably attempting to hit him. Then he was hauled back up and pinioned between two of the men, who dragged him roughly toward the door. Mary Nazarene, Joseph, and their children were pushed back into one corner of the temple, seemingly forgotten, but Crawly could see the terror in Mary’s eyes as she watched her son be shoved away by the crowd. It was then that Crawly knew she’d overdone it.

She moved toward the front of the temple, rounding the corner just as the crowd spilled out the doors, pushing Yeshua before them. She could see that at least one of them had landed a punch, with the skin above Yeshua’s eye split and bleeding. He was just letting the crowd haul him along, as if the blow to his head had left him too dazed to stand on his own. Crawly cursed under her breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to drag him out of this on her own without resorting to demonic magic. She racked her brain, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t make the situation even worse, but all she felt was a growing panic as she watched the temple-goers shove Yeshua toward a cliff that was a few hundred meters away.

As they neared the edge, she knew she was out of options. She threw her arms toward the sky, freezing everyone within a five-mile radius, knowing that it was the only way she was getting out of this without having to erase the memories of scores of people. She picked her way through the suddenly-still crowd until she reached Yeshua. When she got to him, he was even bloodier than he had been as they had brought him out the door, and she could see where purple bruises were already starting to blossom around his face and arms. She cringed at the damage, leaning toward him and placing her hand to his cheek.

Yeshua unfroze when she touched him, toppling forward and landing face down in the dust, too concussed to remember to bring his hands up to break his fall. She knelt beside him to help him stand. He hissed in pain as she got an arm under his chest and she could feel that at least one of his ribs had been broken. She got him to his feet as gingerly as possible but knew that he had to be hurting. She waved her hand in front of his eyes and noted that he couldn’t seem to focus on the motion.

Crawly shifted around to Yeshua’s other side, where his ribs seemed to be intact, and guided his arm over her shoulders. She could hear him mumbling, the sounds resolving into her name and a question. “M-mary…. W-w-why….?” She sighed, angry at herself but aware that they still had to get out of this situation before either one of them would be in a place to properly berate her.

“No time now, Yesh. Can you stand on your own?” She already knew the answer, though, as he sagged against her; she could see that he wasn’t going to be able to do any of the heavy lifting. No sense waiting around then. She snapped her fingers and the crowd surged back to life, once again shouting and shoving toward them, intent on throwing Yeshua over the cliff. But this time, they were surprised to find that no one could get within five feet of him, thanks to Crawly. No matter how hard they flung themselves at the pair, they could come no closer. She started walking him forward through the mob, which gradually fell silent, awed by the apparent miracle that had taken place. Crawly would’ve laughed at the irony if she wasn’t still so on edge.

As they passed through the far edge of the crowd, back near the entrance to the temple, Crawly saw that the disciples and Yeshua’s family were waiting for them. She brought him over to the little group and but found she had trouble loosening her grip on him when Simon Peter stepped in to take her place. She was glad she didn’t have time to think more carefully about why that was and tried to focus herself on just making sure they all got out of there. As Yeshua’s supporters started to lead him away, she walked at the back of the group, checking over her shoulder to make sure that no one followed them.

\-----

Crawly berated herself the entire walk back to Joseph and Mary’s. She was going around and around in her head, unsure of what she was most angry at herself for. For letting Yeshua muddle the lines between them, for getting distracted from the end goal and actually considering salvation, for overreacting so spectacularly to her own distraction that she had put that end goal in danger and nearly gotten Yeshua murdered before he could be corrupted… For doing something so stupid that now Yeshua might actually find a reason to send her away, if only for his own safety, and now she’d have to start from scratch on a new plan to somehow win his soul for Hell in the year and a half she had left.

And behind all that endless anger, she was struggling with something even more damning: the thought that maybe she was so upset because she didn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him. Which just brought her back around to the fury she was feeling toward herself, because she was the twice-damned Serpent of Eden and she shouldn’t care what happened to the Son of the Most Holy God who had cast her out and cursed her to eat dust for all of her days.

The group made it back without further incident, shuffling Yeshua through the courtyard and toward the room Crawly had shared with him the night before. One of the other disciples held the door open while Simon Peter eased Yeshua onto the bed. After he laid him down, Simon Peter turned and spoke from the doorway to Mary of Nazareth. “Blessed mother Mary, you should call for a healer for your son, for he is grievously injured.”

Crawly couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Simon Peter’s obsequious tone. Before Mary could turn to leave, Crawly placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do not trouble yourself, mother. I have what I need to heal my husband already among my things. I will care for Yeshua.” Simon Peter scowled at her, but Mary nodded, stepping back to allow Crawly to approach the door.

She pushed past Simon Peter, who seemed determined to stay in the room with them while Crawly did whatever healing she was going to do. It was no surprise to her that Simon Peter appeared to think her incapable of caring for Yeshua in this state. That didn’t mean that she had to put up with it, though. Her feelings about Yeshua may have been conflicted, but she’d only ever found Simon Peter to be annoying, and right now, he was in her way. 

She spoke to him in a low tone, directing her words so that only he would hear her. “You will leave this room now, Simon Peter, or so help me I will have him cast you out when he is well. How is it that his _most devoted _disciple didn’t intervene when the mob came for him? Why was my husband at the cliff’s edge and you, Simon Peter, were nowhere to be found? Have you been questioning your faith, perhapssss? Maybe you should go focus on that, instead of interfering where you aren’t needed. Out.”

The disciple nearly shot out of the doorway, eyes huge in his head as he backed away from the little room. Crawly closed the door behind him, not waiting for anyone else to offer up whatever worthless commentary they might also have on the matter. She latched it tight, then turned to face Yeshua where Simon Peter had placed him on the bed. He was drenched in sweat, his skin pale and his breathing shallow. He seemed to be unconscious. All the better, as she’d be able to heal him without having to address any awkward questions just yet.

She held her hands above his body, feeling his aura to see if he was injured anywhere other than where she’d already noted. She counted two broken ribs, internal bleeding throughout his torso, a concussion, and several lacerations on his face and arms. Crawly shuddered, unable to fight back the thought that all of this was her fault. She’d been aiming for him to be embarrassed, not beaten and broken. Who knew what would happen now.

Leaning closer to him, Crawly placed her hands gently against Yeshua’s chest, just over his broken ribs. She hummed and the bones knitted themselves back together. Then she brushed her hands across his sternum, willing his blood back where it belonged. The concussion wouldn’t be quite so easy, as even human brains were a bit finicky, but it nothing she couldn’t take care of. She placed her hands on his temples, feeling where his brain had swollen after it knocked against his skull, and directed her power to where it was needed most. She could feel the synapses reconnecting as she worked, rewiring the bits that had been shaken apart in the brawl.

When she pulled back a few minutes later, she could see that her healing had been effective, as Yeshua’s eyes were clear and locked on her own. He opened his mouth to speak, but Crawly cut him off before he could start. “Let me finish with the cuts first, Yesh.” She brushed her hands over his arms, healing the scrapes and cleaning him up as she went. As she reached his face, she was startled by Yeshua reaching up to knock her hands aside before she could get to the gash above his eye.

“Leave it.” Crawly raised an eyebrow at him but chose not to pursue it. He opted to simply wipe the blood away, sitting up on the bed so that he was upright and facing her. She shrugged and sat back and away from him a bit, satisfied that she had taken care of the worst of the damage. She wished he would have stayed unconscious long enough for her to slip out, but of course she could never be so lucky. And now she was going to have to deal with being sent away before she had time to even start coming up with a new plan.

“Tell me why, Crawly.” Yeshua kept his gaze on her and it felt like he was boring holes in her skin.

“Why what, Yeshua?” She knew what he was asking, but hell forbid she actually make anything in her life simple.

“I don’t know exactly what you did, but I know it was you. Why did you make them attack me at the temple?”

“I didn’t…” she paused, then sighed. Her first instinct was to lie to him, but she thought that she might owe him honesty after the day he’d had. She chose not to examine why she felt that way. “I didn’t make them attack you. All I did was send out the idea that you were not actually the prophesied Messiah. The rest was all them. I didn’t think they’d take it that far.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She thought she could feel her skin smoldering where his stare lingered on her.

“Because I… Becaussssse…” she stammered, “Because I could feel myself turning toward you and I panicked.” It was true enough that she hoped he’d take it for what it was. It was certainly in line with the inner turmoil she’d been experiencing, but vague enough that she hoped he wouldn’t catch on to just how twisted their whole situation actually had her.

Yeshua nodded, apparently accepting her answer as sufficient. Then, to Crawly’s bewilderment, he grinned at her. He eased himself back onto the bed and reached around to arrange the pillow, groaning a bit as his arm stretched up over his head. “Nothing to be done about the soreness, I suppose?”

Crawly shook her head, not trusting her voice. She couldn’t fathom why he had let it go so quickly. She’d expected shouting, or at the very least, an angry rejection. She had been certain that she’d managed to ruin things so completely that he’d find a reason to get rid of her, Hebrew family law be damned. Yet here he was, smiling at her like he’d had too much wine, and relaxing in front of her like he’d somehow managed to forget that she was a demon. He hadn’t even made her explain herself, not really.

She tried not to gawp at him but couldn’t help it when he reached out and grabbed toward her from his position on the bed. “Come here, Mary, come lay with me while I recover.”

Crawly knew it would be absolutely idiotic to give him what he wanted, but everything was a mess and she had no idea what she was going to do next, so she threw caution to the wind and laid down beside him. It wasn’t like it could make anything any worse, she supposed. Her thoughts continued to swirl in her head as he pulled her into his arms, shifting her so that her head was resting on the ribs that hadn’t been broken. She could hear his heart thrumming in his chest and was hit with a sudden clarity. Her mind was forced to focus on the one thought she had been avoiding all day: it was her or Yeshua, and for once in all her millennia of existence, she wasn’t sure that she would still choose herself. 

Yeshua ran his fingers through her hair and Crawly shuddered. She had no idea what he was thinking, but it was becoming increasingly clear that neither of them were in the same place they had been five days ago. He kissed the top of her head and she froze, uncertain now what her reaction should be. He chuckled, seemingly unperturbed, and returned to stroking her hair, running his fingers through crimson curls.

Minutes later—or maybe hours, or even days, for all Crawly could tell—he spoke. “I know you didn’t mean it, not really, you see. You can’t have wanted me hurt, or you wouldn’t have healed me and stayed with me. I see you, Mary.” He sighed and kissed her head again. “I forgive you.” She said nothing, remaining as still as she could, feeling lost as he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I got rrrrrrrrl hung up on this post: https://zigraves.tumblr.com/post/186778857435/crowley-is-mary-magdalene. If somebody knows OP, please send them this because it's their fault. 
> 
> Uhhhhh I've read at least 1500 GO fics in the last four months and I'd say it's a problem, but really, there are significantly worse addictions to have. 
> 
> Just as a heads up, this likely won't earn its E rating until at least chapter 6, but it will DEFINITELY earn it.


End file.
